


Mrs. Fix It

by StarMaamMke



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Jim is grumpy, come and get your smut, smut smut smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 13:07:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15582651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarMaamMke/pseuds/StarMaamMke
Summary: Flo has had just about enough of Jim's stank attitude. She calls in reinforcements.Pure smut.





	Mrs. Fix It

 

Flo sighed as she overheard the load groan of frustration coming from Jim Hopper’s office, followed by a sharp curse. Flo was not one to use coarse language, but upon hearing the sound of a chair scraping violently across linoleum, she let out a choice profanity of her own.

“Gosh darn it.”

As if on cue, the door to Jim’s office flew open and the devil himself stomped out, a lumbering, vengeful giant in too-tight khaki clutching a stuffed manila folder. His heavy browed glare was fixed on Officer Phil Callahan, a person Flo personally thought was as dumb as a box of hair, but her heart ached with sympathy as Jim stalked over and slammed the disorganized pile onto the top of the boy’s desk with a heavy slap.

“Callahan, did your daughter file this report?” 

 

Callahan let out of nervous bark of laughter, his usually cocky bravado withering and dying under the darkness of Jim’s glower. “Tallulah is three, Chief.”

 

“That’s what I thought when I looked at this shit. Do it again, and have it on my desk by the end of the day.” Jim glanced at Flo who was giving him her very best ‘I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed’ look.

 

“Can I help you?” Jim barked. 

 

Flo let out a small gasp. It was one thing to berate the boys, but she had been working for Hawkins Police Department since Garland Hopper was Chief of Police, and she had never  _ ever  _ in her years had someone raise their voice at her. Sure, Jim was surly and sarcastic, and sometimes aimed both personality flaws at her, but he never  _ yelled _ at her, goodness no.

 

“James Fenimore Hopper--”

 

Jim raised his hands, palms facing Flo. “Spare me. No one is paying you to be my mother.” With that, he stalked back to his office and slammed the door. 

 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Flo huffed. She was very sorry that something clearly happened over the weekend to put Jim in such a terrible mood, but it was Thursday now, and decent people typically had their weekend angst out by Monday afternoons, at the very earliest. Jim had come in a hurricane on Monday, and while his wild and taciturn moods had died down to an intense tempest, Flo was at the end of her rope.

 

“He must still be smarting about the barbecue,” Calvin Powell remarked as he walked over to Callahan’s desk to inspect the chaotic pile of paperwork. “He’s right though; this is some lazy shit, friend.” 

 

Phil shrugged with a dismissive snort. “He never cared before. Crazy Joyce must’ve really given him a case of blue balls.”

 

“Don’t call her that!” Flo snapped. It annoyed her how casually that term got thrown around when it came to Joyce Byers, and a little ashamed at herself for affixing the term to the woman from time to time. 

 

Ever since November, Joyce had become more of a presence at the Police Department; popping in to bring healthy lunches for Jim (thank god!) or - oddly enough - boxes upon boxes of books, notebooks, and writing utensils. The last bit made more sense once his “long lost daughter” came into the picture. A little slip of a thing that was the result of a one night stand. With any other man, it would’ve raised a few eyebrows to have a daughter show up out of nowhere, especially one that was roughly the same age that his daughter Sara would’ve been… but this was Jim Hopper and his reputation was legendary - he had been a bit of a lady killer since his Senior year of high school. Anyway, Joyce hadn’t made a single stop to the station since Friday afternoon - Flo started to put the pieces together.

 

“Sorry, Mrs. Byers must’ve really given him a case of blue balls.”

 

Flo frowned. “Don’t call her Mrs. Byers, she hates that - What are you talking about, what happened at the barbecue?” Flo was not usually aggressively nosey, she had long learned that sitting quietly and listening often naturally provided the little small-town gossip her bored, empty-nested heart desired… but this was a crisis, and she wanted it solved quickly. 

 

Calvin chuckled. “Apparently, Joyce rejected him hard at the Wheelers’ yearly bash. I was there for a little while and they seemed to be getting along for a while, but then she kind of left in a huff. He sulked the rest of the night.”

 

“I heard it was the other way around,” Phil interjected. “Cr-... Joyce hit the tequila sunrises and then tried to break herself off a piece of Ole Chiefy, and he didn’t want to fuck with crazy. Sorry. He didn’t want to mess with troubled.”

 

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Philip,” Flo scolded. “Well, something obviously happened, and I’m handling it.” She stood, gathered her purse and took a deep breath. “I’m going on lunch, boys. Fix that paperwork and don’t let the place burn down.”

 

______________

 

“Fix it,” Flo demanded as she strode into Melvald’s and slapped a deli sandwich, wrapped snug in white paper, onto the counter in front of Joyce. The younger woman sputtered a bit, her mouth opening and closing like a fish pulled from its watery comfort zone, her large eyes wide and wild. “It’s tuna fish, Jim says it’s your favorite.”

 

“Oh.” Joyce picked up the wrapped sandwich to inspect it, and frowned. “What… what did they forget to put on the sandwich? We don’t really sell food.”

 

Flo scoffed and shook her head, slapping her palms on the glass counter. “No, no, no, the sandwich is fine - eat the sandwich when I leave! - fix what is going on between you and Jim.”

 

Joyce took a deep, shuddering breath. Of course. “There’s nothing going on between me and Jim.” Her lower lip trembled as she managed a weak smile, her gaze fixated on the sandwich and not Flo’s face. “He made that very clear last weekend.”

 

It had been stupid, really. Karen and her grand ideas about things she couldn’t possibly understand had Joyce giddy and thinking that it was time for her and Jim again. Fate, Meant to Be, ‘I see the way he looks at you’... what a recipe for bullshit. So Joyce styled her hair, coaxing the frizz into loose curls, pulling it back with a royal blue headband, put on a little bit of makeup, unearthed a cotton sundress from a lifetime ago that matched the headband, and made sure she was standing in the middle of the Wheelers’ backyard - front and center - when Jim arrived with El. 

 

After a few drinks, and some flirting that Joyce was sure made her look utterly ridiculous, she escaped into the house to use the bathroom in the basement to mop the sweat from her face and try to tame the frizz that came roaring back into her auburn locks. When she emerged from the bathroom, there he stood; looming and staring down at her with an expression that crawled under her already feverish skin and brought it to an electric scorch. He looked like he wanted to devour her, and when his hands cupped her face, she stood on her tiptoes, grasped the front of his Hawaiian shirt, tilted her head back and closed her eyes so he could do just that. 

 

She felt his breath tingling against her lips, hot and tinged with whiskey, but he got no further than stroking her lower lip with his thumb before he pulled back so suddenly that she lost some of her balance and tipped forward. She opened her eyes and found his once intense expression had pulled into one of profound regret. 

 

“Really?” Joyce had breathed, her lips pressing together, and her nostrils flaring. 

 

“I’m sorry. It’s… I always try and do stupid shit when I’m drunk.”

 

“‘STUPID SHIT’?” The drink was adding to her already profound humiliation and making her loud. “Kissing me is stupid?”

 

Jim blinked as his face went from penitent to confused in less than five seconds. “It’s… It’s too soon - no, scratch that - it’s never going to happen because I’m not-”

 

“Stop! Y-you don’t have to say anything else. I’m just going to go now.” Joyce pushed at his chest as he tried to come close, his arms out with the obvious intention of pulling her into one of his strong, confusing hugs that left her dizzy with want.

 

“Hey, come on now, you know we-”

 

Joyce didn’t hear the rest, she was already making her way to the backyard to check up on Will and Jonathan, who both assured her that they still wanted to stay at the party and would either stay at the Wheelers or let her know when they were coming home. She heard Jim calling her name when she reached her car, parked two blocks away from the Wheeler house. The rest of the night had been a blur of tears and late night house cleaning with Jonathan’s punk records blaring through the speakers. 

 

Six days of ignoring phone calls, and erasing one voicemail that kicked off with a blustery reprimand and reminder of the dangers of drunk driving, and now Flo was standing in front of her, glaring as though she had done something wrong.

 

“If he told you he didn’t want you, then he’s lying for some stupid reason. All I know is that there is talk around the water cooler that the two of you are having a lovers’ spat, and it’s making everyone at the station miserable.” Flo leaned closer, her brows knitting together. “He yelled at me,” she whispered.

 

“Flo, he did not! He loves you like his loved his mother.”

 

Flo shrugged, and Joyce couldn’t miss the pained wince that passed over the older woman’s features. “I just want peace. I’m old… could you at least try to talk to him?”

 

Joyce opened her mouth, ready to snap back with a defensive reply about things not being her problem, but she could tell that Flo was tired and more than a little hurt over Jim’s surly temperament. She snapped her mouth shut and made a frustrated little noise in the back of her throat. 

 

“Fine. I’ll stop by after my shift.”

 

“I’ll make sure everyone else makes themselves scarce,” Flo replied with a distinct twinkle and a knowing little smile.

 

“Oh, hey, that’s not--”

 

“Thank you, Joyce.”

______________

 

“Where is everyone?” Jim asked as he surveyed the mostly empty police station.

 

“Patrol I imagine,” Flo sniffed as she plucked her purse from her desk, avoiding eye contact with Jim. “Don’t worry, I fixed Officer Callahan’s paperwork, so you don’t need to go run the poor boy off of the road or anything.”

 

Jim immediately felt sheepish. His earlier irritation was beginning to wan, giving way to a world-weary exhaustion that cramped up his shoulders and lower back. He ran a hand across the back of his head and looked down as his cheeks burned.

 

“Hey, Flo, you know I’m really sorry about earlier.”

 

Flo ignored the remark as the sound of the front door to the station could be heard opening. She stole a quick glance. “Oh, it’s Joyce Byers. Well, I have to get home. Good night, Jim.”

 

“Flo, wait!” He collided with Joyce as he pursued Flo towards the entrance, grunting as her head bounced against his chest. The tiny brunette glared up at him as he made a quick apology. 

 

“It’s fine. What’s this I hear about you being an ogre?” 

 

Jim stumbled back and frowned down at Joyce as she folded her arms over her chest. She was clad in a pair of faded blue jeans that appeared to be two sizes too big, a similarly oversized green blouse, and her work vest. Her thick, coarse hair was pulled up into a hastily thrown together bun, with messy tendrils framing her tired, impatient face. She was bristling with anger, and her question infuriated him a little. She was the most beautiful thing Jim had ever seen. 

 

“I didn’t know you worked in HR. Why do you know that?” Jim shot back, unable to keep himself from being terse and sarcastic, even as his heart was swelling and breaking from being in her presence. He felt love, all-consuming and sickly-sweet, surging from his stomach to his chest as he ached from the self-control it took not to touch her. 

 

“Flo said you yelled at her, and implied that it was my fault somehow. Funny, I don’t remember being the one who turned you down flat.” 

 

“That’s not the way it happened, I never turned you down because--”

 

“You said it was never going to happen, I remember that much.”

 

“GET OUT!” Jim shouted, giving Joyce a violent start. She was confused until she heard the front door to the station open and shut, she turned in time to see the back of Officer Callahan as he bid a hasty retreat. She hadn’t even heard him come in. Jim’s expression immediately softened at her wide-eyed shock. “I’m sorry, I just… can we go to my office? I can’t guarantee another one of these incompetent assholes won’t come walking in again.”

 

“Oh, I should be--”

 

“ _ Please. _ ”

 

_________________

 

Joyce decided to go for a power play; when Jim opened the door to his office and ushered her in, she strode over to his desk and sat ramrod straight behind it, her feet barely touch the ground in his fancy new adjustable chair she had helped pick out from an office catalogue when the doctor told him he needed something with proper back support. She had meant the move to be purposefully baiting, but instead of being annoyed, she caught a distinct light in his eyes and a delighted grin appeared and disappeared before he sat across from her, his large hands coming to rest on his thighs.

 

“You have to know how much I care for you, Joyce,” he began. “Our friendship has meant - it’s meant everything to me and to El, you know that right?”

 

Joyce nodded. “I feel the same,” she found herself unable to keep from saying. Her posture relaxed and she leaned forward, her elbows resting on top of the desk, her body tensing up in anticipation of the gentle rejection that was sure to come.

 

“But ever since Snow- no, before - ever since I helped you find Will, I keep finding myself thinking - and I was so goddamn jealous when you were with… fuck. I’m bad at this.”

 

Joyce eyes widened as her mind worked around his fragmented speech, adeptly filling in the blanks. “What?” she asked in a small voice.

 

Jim covered his face with his hands and groaned as though in pain. “I said it was too soon, because it hasn’t even been a year and I’ve been feeling so fucking guilty because I can’t stop… I was doing great until that party - you were so goddamn beautiful that it hurt to look at you, and I want you and I can’t want you because I’m so bad at this being a parent thing, and if we make a go of this and I fuck it up - and I will - El’s not going to have anyone worth a damn--”

 

“Are you saying that I’d abandon El?” Joyce interjected. The accusation was stunningly hurtful, even as the first part of his confession made her drunk with hope. “How could you even think that and why would you want someone that would do something like that?”

 

“No! I don’t think that - but I feel like I’d fuck it up and hurt you so bad that somehow--”

 

“Ew.” Joyce made a retching noise.

“Wh-what?”

 

Joyce shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know… you breaking us up before we’ve even had our first coffee?”

 

Jim snorted. “We’ve had a lot of coffee together.”

 

“No, you know what I mean.” Joyce pushed back and stood so she could walk over to where Jim was sitting. She cupped one cheek, feeling the promise of a beard bristle against her palm, and her curious warmth stirred within her as his eyes closed and he nuzzled against her touch. “Let yourself be happy for a bit. Allow us to be happy before you think of ways to back out of this.”

 

Jim’s eyes snapped open, his expression was one of irritated defensiveness. “There is no--” He was cut off as Joyce bent low and whispered her mouth against his. 

 

“Yes there is, or you wouldn’t be taking out your sexual frustration on everyone in the office.”

 

“I’m not sexually frustrated,” he murmured, sliding his hands up to her waist and pulling her into his lap. Joyce straddled his lap, and their lips met and parted as the dam broke, Jim’s tongue sliding against hers as he held her tight against him, one arm wrapped across her back. His other hand restlessly slid from the side of her neck, up to her cheek, and then cupped the back of her head. 

 

“It’s not too soon,” Joyce gasped as they broke for air. 

 

“Okay,” Jim replied as he stood, one arm keeping her anchored around him as he walked her towards the desk. He sat her on the edge and stepped between her legs, their lips barely disconnecting during the entire maneuver. Joyce sighed when one hand slide up the front of her shirt - she covered it with her own hand, coaxing him under her bra where his thumb brushed against one sensitive nipple. She slide one of her hands down to cup the hardness straining the front of his trousers, making him curse and nip at her earlobe before kissing behind her ear, and down the side of her neck. 

 

“Tell me there’s an us,” Joyce whispered against his ear, her hand gently squeezing his cock. He gasped and nodded against her neck.

 

“It’s always been us,” he murmured. 

 

The confession filled Joyce with cool relief, and she kissed him deep and slow as her hands worked at his belt. In a fumbling dance of limbs and hands, they managed to discard her shirt and bra, his trousers and boxers. Jim deftly unbuttoned her jeans and slipped a hand down the front, under her panties. She whimpered when his index finger swiped into her folds and played at the wetness there, swirling around her aching little clit as she writhed and stroked at his cock simultaneously. Their kisses turned sloppy with passion as Joyce’s nerve endings sang and burned with his skilled ministrations. His breathing grew ragged, his kisses moving to her cheeks, her neck, until he drew one nipple into his mouth, his groans muffled as he bit and suckled greedily. It was too much, and soon she was muffling a scream against her hand as she came apart against his fingers and hand, her body trembling as his mouth moved back to hers.

 

“Jesus, Joyce.”

 

“Mmm,” she sighed as she laid back on the desk and pushed her jeans and panties down her waist. He assisted her in removing them before stepping between her legs and pulling them around his waist. 

 

“Is this…”

 

Joyce nodded and lifted her hips so he could slide inside of her. She bit her bottom lip and winced slightly, but within moments her body stretched to accommodate him and she was murmuring soft encouragement. He grasped her hips and began to fuck into her - slowly at first, but building to a frantic pace as her soft moans increased in volume. She felt his fingertips bit into her flesh and she could tell by his irregular breathing and flawed rhythm that he would probably finish before she reached the precipice once more. This was fine. They were on the same page. There was time now. She sat up, and pressed herself flush against him as he wrapped his arms about her and began to tremble with exertion.

 

He came with a curse and a hoarse exhale, filling her with a sticky warmth that clung to her thighs along with their mingled sweat. 

 

“Fuck, I meant to pull out,” he remarked, pressing his forehead against hers. 

 

“S’okay…” she murmured. “After Will the doctor said there wouldn’t be any more babies.” It was an oddly confessional thing to say, and she winced a bit after she said it. The awkwardness faded when Jim kissed her forehead, hard. 

 

“Still cranky,” she asked later, when they were pulling on their discarded clothing. Jim shot her a smile that was almost shy.

 

“Nah. Gonna buy lunch for everyone tomorrow though, I really was kind of a pile.”

 

“Hmph.”

  
  
  
  



End file.
